


Careless Dreams

by LadyLysa



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Erestor is a smartass, Falling In Love, First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, before pain and sorrow and bad things, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-28 20:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8461360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLysa/pseuds/LadyLysa
Summary: Glorfindel is everything and nothing like Erestor expects.Which, he reflects, is a good thing.





	1. An Expected Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> For narrative (and stupidity) purposes, the Founding of Imladris has been pushed back to S.A. 1500 because... well I forgot.

S.A. 1600  
The day Glorfindel came to Imladris, Erestor woke up late. He stumbled out of bed, cursing his lack of wisdom, and carelessly, with sleep sodden fingers tied his thick black hair into the simple braid as was his wont. As anyone who had lived in Imladris for any significant length of time could attest, Erestor detested dressing up for any occasion.

True to his philosophy as ever, he selected a dark velvety green robe with as few trappings as dress robes could reasonably claim. It was also the least rumpled thing in his closet, but Erestor paid little mind to that as he rushed through the door.

Elrond was waiting dourly in the Great Hall, an eyebrow raised. Erestor grinned at him, a sudden blossoming of his normally serious face that few could resist. “Fair morning, my Lord,” he said, merrily.

Elrond sighed, his face softening. “Fair morning, Erestor, if morning it may still be called. You have not forgotten, I hope, our esteemed arrival? The one whose coming has been heralded by the Valar?”

So he was still annoyed. Erestor tilted his head, opened his eyes widely and said, “Do relax, Elrond, everything is going fine, as we – as I – have been planning for the last month and a half. In any case, I assure you that our esteemed arrival would not have been for the worse for my lack of presence, seeing as he does not know that I exist.”

A muscle jumped in Elrond’s temple, but, to Erestor’s thankfulness, he merely rolled his eyes and turned back to the Hall. As Erestor had said, preparations had come along magnificently after all and there were few things left to do.

With perfect timing in Erestor’s opinion, at almost precisely the point the sun reached its apex, the first messengers announcing the arrival of the esteemed party from the Havens came in. Despite his assumed nonchalance, Erestor craned his neck in interest to see the first glimpse of the famed Balrog-slayer returned from the dead.

What he saw was most fitting. Glorfindel of Gondolin rode at the front of the party and all of Imladris seemed to draw in a collective breath at his beauty. Even Erestor, who was rarely impressed by physical beauty, felt strangely winded.

Glorfindel was tall and straight and even from afar, gave the impression of great strength and nobility. His famed hair was as an aureole of gold around his head and the light of Anor seemed to have been caught in its strands.

Elrond and Erestor, as the highest ranking members of the household, came forward to welcome him. As Elrond spoke words of welcome and Glorfindel returned in kind, Erestor, while murmuring polite, obligatory remarks, took the chance to observe the golden lord.

Physically quite perfect, certainly well built, noble, brave, a great warrior… Erestor thought that he would do handsomely as a part of Imladris’ retinue– certainly Oropher could not claim any Elf such as Glorfindel in his realm, and that, reflected Erestor, would make the whole thing quite worthwhile even if there had been no other benefits.

In the rush that followed, Erestor had no chance to make any personal remarks as what felt like the entirety of Imladris crowded around the Balrog slayer. Erestor was swept into the fray to try commanding some semblance of order while Melpomaen was promptly dispatched to show Glorfindel to his room and stow him away from the ruckus.

The riot safely averted and the denizens of the Last Homely House, eagerly chattering and gossiping, for the most part returned to their tasks, Erestor finally found himself in his office and let out his feelings by ordering everyone else around and finalizing preparations for the next night’s welcome banquet.

\- 

A few hours and an Erestor sunk into the stupor of work later, Lindir sauntered into the office, perched on the edge of Erestor’s desk and flicked his ear. Erestor jerked up and glared at him.

Lindir smiled, lightly and easily. “You shall become a goblin if you stay cooped up in here so long, Erestor. Have you not had a chance to meet our golden hero as yet?”

“I have the feast to plan and helpers of little competence,” Erestor said peevishly. “You, I remember, are a minstrel.”

Lindir laughed, “That I am and we have been rehearsing all day, never fear. Which reminds me, Laersul, Ariel, and Carwen have all told me to tell you to save them each a dance after the feast.”

Erestor looked up in despair. “There goes my chance of escaping, I suppose.”

“You could always say no.”

“Perhaps you could, but I could not. It would hurt their feelings and I should feel terrible all night and all the week after.”

Lindir paused, uncertain, then appeared to make up his mind. 

“You are far too obliging for your own good, Counselor, and cruel too.”

This, Erestor stared at. “Cruel? How so?”

“You give them hope where there is none and leave them in misery as you disperse your favor elsewhere. It is nothing less than cruel.” There was an undercurrent of bitterness in Lindir’s voice that Erestor suddenly felt too frightened to analyze. He rushed to change the subject.

“I am truly the worst of villains,” he said lightly. “And I implore you to impress upon the kitchen staff the extent of my villainy if they do not have the Southern fruit tarts ready by the eve.”

Lindir’s face relaxed into a grin and giving Erestor a friendly shove, he traipsed out into the hall, his carefree demeanor returned. Erestor remained staring after him for a moment, then shook his head and turned his mind stubbornly back to his work. 

\--

 

Erestor stood at the end of the hall, hidden slightly by a column. He had just escaped Laersul, a young soldier who had just transferred from Mirkwood and had quickly become one of Erestor’s most ardent admirers. He was too young to be brusquely refused and so Erestor had resignedly spent the majority of the feast captive by his eager side. Now though, he could appreciate his work.

Never one for false modesty, Erestor proudly scanned the hall and reflected that all his preparations had come well to fruition. Even the Balrog slayer had played in nicely, although perhaps he was almost too gracious and courteous. He did not partake in the ribald tales or carefree drinking of the other warriors, though he did smile politely when it was due. He confined most of his speech to answering questions (of which there was no shortage, Erestor thought with pity). His voice too had surprised Erestor. He had expected a loud, boisterous voice and booming laughs, as the previous Commander of the Imladris Guard, Daurin, had. Instead, Glorfindel’s voice was quiet and sweet, with an underlying timbre of strength. It suited him. 

Shaking himself slightly and seeing Laersul back in the Hall and looking around searchingly, Erestor quickly betook himself to the Imladrin gardens into a secluded corner by a brook. Sinking into the seat, a wave of exhaustion washed over him and his eyes drifted shut, lulled to sleep by the sweet perfume of the flowers.

It was only a few minutes later that he was jerked awake by a slight rustle. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Erestor felt his breath steal away for the first time in his life. Glorfindel was standing under a small pavilion a little way from him. The moonshine washed over him, bathing him in an ethereal light. His hair, a deep gold by daylight, seemed to glow like a halo around him, struck through with silver. He looked as glorious as one of the Maiar.

It took a few moments for Erestor snap out of his awe and briskly crush down the fluttering in his stomach. Getting his thoughts (and hair) in order, he stood up and matter-of-factly made his over to Glorfindel. Never one to lose an opportunity, he reflected that, after all, he did have important information to impart to him. And perhaps he was a little curious. 

“Lord Glorfindel?” he called.

Glorfindel jerked out of his daze and turned abruptly. He was no less beautiful but Erestor stubbornly put all such thoughts out of his mind and gave him a warm smile that he hoped imparted both welcome and wisdom. 

Glorfindel looked lost for a moment, then his eyes brightened up with recognition. He stepped down from the pavilion. “You are Master Erestor, Chief Advisor to Lord Elrond, if I remember aright? Forgive me if I am not; my memory is still not quite at its previous condition.”

“Yes, I am,” Erestor said, surprised and pleased. “I merely wondered if you needed directions to somewhere? Imladris is a maze on the best of days.”

“No, I just wished for some fresh air. It has not - it has not been very long since my return and I wanted to see the stars.”

“Forgive me then for disturbing you. I shall take my leave.”

Glorfindel glanced back, considered him for a moment, then shook his fine head. “No, stay. I saw you sleeping earlier. It would be unfair of me to wake you and drive you away from your place.”

He leaned on the edge of the pavilion and after a moment, Erestor went to join him. They said little after that, even Erestor content to watch the stars quietly. He felt a strange kinship with Glorfindel, this reborn hero of breathtaking beauty, enshrouded by legend and glory. Erestor had never seen Glorfindel before and, sensibly, he knew that likely they were too different to be friends and the Balrog-slayer would pay no mind to him after this night, but at that very moment he felt as familiar as an old friend. 

\----

The next day burned Erestor’s eyelids before he scrunched his face into his pillow and groaned. Only one person had the temerity to waken him this way.

“Lindir, I shall drive a poisoned Orc blade through you if you do not close the curtains now!”

Lindir merely laughed. “If you did that, who would you have to gossip and gripe to?”

“I neither gossip nor gripe and if you do not leave now, I will throw you bodily out of my chambers.”

“It is high time for you to get up anyways. Both the wandering company and a delegation from Numenor are here-”

“Let me guess: to get a close up glimpse of the renowned reborn Balrog slayer?” Erestor frowned, sitting up. “Mandos’ balls, Elrond can’t really mean to parade him around for the world to gawk at?”

“Such language does not befit you, dear Res,” Lindir grinned, ducking a pillow. “But yes, although Gildor claims he is just here on a regular rest stop and the Numenoreans have trumped up some argument about trade. But wait, why so much concern over someone you have not met? Or wait, perhaps you have met him? I noticed that neither of you were to be seen during the second half of the feast. Carwen is dreadfully disappointed by the way.”

Erestor rolled his eyes. “We were just getting some fresh air and happened to meet. We merely greeted each other.” Somehow, he didn’t quite feel comfortable telling Lindir of the stargazing. “I suppose I must go deal with this Valar-forsaken delegation,” he said grumpily, walking to his closet. He paused suddenly. “And why on Arda is Carwen disappointed? I danced with her - twice!”

“I believe she was expecting a spontaneous declaration of love. Also possibly a proposal of marriage. I don’t believe the order matters to her,” Lindir said drily.

Erestor sighed loudly.

\-----

As expected, the Numenoreans’ trade issue fell apart at the slightest questioning. The envoy did not in the least look put out and departed Erestor’s office quite cheerily. 

Erestor had meant to send a message to Glorfindel to not go down to the dining hall, but found that he was too late. Glorfindel was quite besieged with admirers and eager questioners. Erestor watched him fend off the questions for a moment with pity. After a moment, he decided to intervene.

“Lord Glorfindel,” he said, “I have been looking for you. We have matters of some import to discuss. Please join me in my office?” He tried to ignore Glorfindel’s obvious look of relief.

“Yes, of course,” he said, following Erestor. Then, under his breath, “Thank you.”

“What for?”  
“I am not too hard to find presently,” Glorfindel said drily. “You must have decided to rescue me.”

Erestor laughed. “You cannot prove anything. In any case, there are some matters that I must discuss with you. Here is my office… And, you are quite welcome to visit when you wish to escape. No one comes in without my permission, save our little pest of a head minstrel. But even he will not bother you.”


	2. The Grapes of Glory

Despite his offer to allow Glorfindel free reign in his office, Erestor did not expect Glorfindel to take him up on it. He expected the Balrog slayer to slip into the niche of the warrior hero’s life soon. So he was surprised when Glorfindel came into his office at least once a week thenceforth, often bringing a book with him to read, at first sheepishly, then confidently, as if he had a right there. 

Lindir was greatly amused and a little furious at this. “For shame, Erestor!” he cried. “You and I have been friends for ten centuries and never have you given me an open invite to your office!”

“There is a good reason for that,” Erestor said, looking pointedly at the stack of papers Lindir had knocked over with his dramatic entrance. “I cannot see what difference it makes to you anyways, seeing as you have never waited for my permission before barging in.”

\-----

Erestor soon grew used to the sight of Glorfindel carelessly sprawled on his divan or sitting in the cushiest armchair. He seldom interrupted Erestor in his work and Erestor eventually came to look forward to their comfortable silences and quiet conversations. Glorfindel was surprisingly well read, although most of his knowledge, understandably, was of the First Age variety. The Valar had shown him only the broad strokes of history and he had no knowledge of the details and innovations introduced. 

He took an odd interest in irrigation and the new methods of planting (recently developed by Galasdir in Ost-in-Edhil). Who would have considered, Erestor thought in despair, that the Balrog slayer of famed Gondolin was a farmer at heart? Erestor liked plants well enough, but not near enough to endure complicated discussions of seeding patterns. At last he took Glorfindel to see Lothwen, head of Imladris’ growers. 

She was a tall, sensible elleth with a sun-bronzed face and work-hardened hands and a warm, gruff disposition. Erestor felt safe to go to her as she was most certainly not a part of Glorfindel’s tittering fanclub. She discussed crops with Glorfindel with a rare enthusiasm. Erestor had the feeling not many great lords cared to talk about her area of expertise. 

Nevertheless, Erestor found himself bored nearly to tears as she and Glorfindel discussed crop rotations. He let his attention wander as he ate his way through Lothwen’s prize strawberries and tried not to stare too much at Glorfindel’s unusually animated face. He welcomed Lindir’s summons with a relief that was almost too obvious. 

Lindir grinned widely at him the entire walk back to the Main Hall. 

“Will you stop leering at me?” Erestor finally snapped. 

“Well what would be the fun in that? Has our ever-elusive counselor’s heart finally been stolen?” Lindir grinned. 

Erestor glared at Lindir in cold fury. “Do you realize,” he said with icy sweetness, “That I make the list of tasks for each member of the household to do? So unless you want to be on stable cleaning duty for the next year -”

Lindir shut up with remarkable swiftness. 

\----

A few days later, Glorfindel looked up from a book on The Proper Cultivation of Vine Plants (edited by Master Sidhiel) and looked at Erestor for a while before asking at length, “What did you first think of me when you saw me?”

A pause.

“I thought you were very satisfactory,” Erestor spoke, considering.

“Satisfactory?”

“Tall. Golden. Beautiful. Every inch the mighty Balrog-slayer. How disappointing it would be if you had been any less!”

Glorfindel seemed lost for words for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed. Erestor thought that he had never seen so lovely a sight.

“You are thoroughly unsentimental, aren’t you?”

“Proudly.”

Another pause. Glorfindel looked down for a moment, smiling, then looked back up, eyes nervous. Erestor thought his heart skipped a beat as Glorfindel teetered on the verge of saying something.

“Erestor, I –“

Melpomaen rushed to Erestor’s side and said, hurriedly, “Master Erestor, Lord Elrond wishes to see you in his office urgently.”

The moment broken, Erestor sighed and drew back from the window. “I suppose I must attend to this. I will see you in the evening, Glorfindel?”

\----

Lindir languidly walked into Erestor’s office and sprawled on the couch. Erestor glared at him. There was always some reason to glare at Lindir. 

“What do you want?” he snipped. The shipment of oranges from the East had turned out to be rotten, putting Erestor in the foul mood for at least the next few hours. 

Lindir yawned with exaggerated exhaustion and carelessly turned his head to face Erestor. “I am merely feeling a foreshadowing a future.”

Erestor was not impressed. “Have you turned into Galadriel now? I am sure Celeborn would be delighted.”

Lindir shuddered. The last time he had seen Celeborn, he had made the mistake of switching his hair tonic with hair dye. The Elf Lord had chased him out of Eregion screaming bloody murder, his newly purple hair flying every which way. Erestor still treasured the memory. 

“If,” Lindir said with great dignity, “You are going to take that attitude, I will not give you Elrond’s message and you will die of a heart attack when the day comes and I shall laugh over your poor pitiful corpse.”

Erestor rolled his eyes, but subsided. “Well?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Oropher will be coming to visit Imladris!” Lindir grinned. 

Erestor sat bolt upright, eyes wide. “No, you lie. Not a chance.”

“Straight from Elrond. They will be here in a fortnight.”

\------

The next two weeks passed in a frenzy of rushed planning and furious activity. Even Glorfindel didn’t escape Erestor’s wrath. 

He had dropped in for tea while Erestor was frantically cataloguing the available wines in the cellar (he would not have Oropher of all Elves spread rumors about the inhospitality of Imladris’ Noldorin masters. Erestor could already hear the smug smirk in that son of Thuringwethil’s voice). 

“Erestor,” Glorfindel called mildly. “Do you not wish to take a rest?”

Erestor rounded on him. “And you! You must make sure to look particularly heroic and legendary. I do not know - do something to make you seem greater than life.”

“I am not enough now?” Glorfindel, irritatingly, laughed. In annoyance, Erestor noticed that he seemed more amused than frightened and subservient.

Erestor stood up with dignity and threw a book at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal for this story is close to zero angst with a high dose of fluff and a little (hopefully) of humor. I hope I have succeeded in conveying even a little of that!
> 
> I know this chapter is very short, but I am currently going through a bit of a block and I wanted to post what I have to remain motivated. Hopefully, as the fic is primarily episodic in nature, the plotline will not be affected.
> 
> Also, I only roughly edited this very quickly, so if there are any mistakes, let me know :)

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in the fandom and for this pairing. I love Erestor and Glorfindel so much, simply through the eyes of the amazing writers in this fandom. I just wish we got more (or any :P) of them in canon.


End file.
